The in-sweep of the outside world was broadening its current now. The improvement company had been formed to encourage the growth of the town. A safe was put in the back part of a furniture store behind a wooden partition and a bank was started. Up through the Gap and toward Kentucky, more entries were driven into the coal, and on the Virginia side were signs of stripping for iron ore. A furnace was coming in just as soon as the railroad could bring it in, and the railroad was pushing ahead with genuine vigor. Speculators were trooping in and the town had been divided off into lots--a few of which had already changed hands. One agent had brought in a big steel safe and a tent and was buying coal lands right and left. More young men drifted in from all points of the compass. A tent-hotel was put at the foot of Imboden Hill, and of nights there were under it much poker and song. The lilt of a definite optimism was in every man's step and the light of hope was in every man's eye. And the Guard went to its work in earnest. Every man now had his Winchester, his revolver, his billy and his whistle. Drilling and target-shooting became a daily practice. Bob, who had been a year in a military school, was drill-master for the recruits, and very gravely he performed his duties and put them through the skirmishers' drill--advancing in rushes, throwing themselves in the new grass, and very gravely he commended one enthusiast--none other than the Hon. Samuel Budd--who, rather than lose his position in line, threw himself into a pool of water: all to the surprise, scorn and anger of the mountain onlookers, who dwelled about the town. Many were the comments the members of the Guard heard from them, even while they were at drill. “I'd like to see one o' them fellers hit me with one of them locust posts.” “Huh! I could take two good men an' run the whole batch out o' the county.” “Look at them dudes and furriners. They come into our country and air tryin' to larn us how to run it.” “Our boys air only tryin' to have their little fun. They don't mean nothin', but someday some fool young guard'll hurt somebody and then thar'll be hell to pay.” Hale could not help feeling considerable sympathy for their point of view--particularly when he saw the mountaineers watching the Guard at target-practice--each volunteer policeman with his back to the target, and at the word of command wheeling and firing six shots in rapid succession--and he did not wonder at their snorts of scorn at such bad shooting and their open anger that the Guard was practising for THEM. But sometimes he got an unexpected recruit. One bully, who had been conspicuous in the brickyard trouble, after watching a drill went up to him with a grin: “Hell,” he said cheerily, “I believe you fellers air goin' to have more fun than we air, an' danged if I don't jine you, if you'll let me.”